


rambling through Thedas

by seimaisin



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/F, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-18
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-08 01:15:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 8,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/437516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seimaisin/pseuds/seimaisin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An ongoing collection of Dragon Age ficlets/drabbles I've written, mostly for Tumblr prompts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was the strangest thing, Alistair thought - he’d never seen Zevran walk so slowly. Or be so quiet. “You okay?” he asked before he could think better of it.

There was a long pause before Zevran looked up at him. “Hmmm? Were you speaking to me?”

“Well, there’s no one else here who looks like the walking dead right now, so yes.”

“The walking dead?” That brought a small smile to Zevran’s face. “Dearest Alistair, you wound me. I have more life than even I know what to do with.”

“Not today, you don’t.” Alistair furrowed his eyebrow. “Are you getting sick? Because I’m pretty sure Wynne would have something for you.”

Yes, Alistair thought, Zevran had to be sick - otherwise, he would have responded with some kind of suggestion as to what Wynne might actually have for him. But instead, the elf just chuckled. “No, I’m not sick, I promise. Your concern is touching, though. I didn’t know you cared.”

“You’re moderately useful. And if you dropped dead in the middle of the Bannorn, we’d have to stop to bury or burn you, and that’d just bring darkspawn.” Alistair shrugged. “You aren’t going to drop dead any time soon, are you?”

“Not that I know of, unless our lovely leader decides to finish the job she abandoned long ago.” Zevran’s grin spread, and for a moment, he looked like himself. “I simply had a … tiring night last night.”

“A tiring …” well, Alistair had been a little preoccupied the night before, he certainly hadn’t been in a position to notice anything but the woman crammed into the tiny tent with him. But he wasn’t clueless enough any more to miss what Zevran likely meant. “With who?”

“Ah, a gentleman never kisses and tells.”

“I know, but I’m asking you.”

“Ah, your wit astounds me, as usual. Let’s just say,” Zevran said, stifling a yawn, “that before yesterday, I was sure there was no one in this little party that could possibly make me cry for mercy. I should have known that someone who made a study of mercy might be my match.”

Zevran walked ahead, leaving Alistair to puzzle through the statement.

A moment later, Leliana walked past him as well, humming a cheerful tune. “Good morning, Alistair,” she said, favoring him with a gleaming smile. “It’s a beautiful day, is it not?”

“You’re certainly in a good mood today.”

“I woke up feeling rather refreshed.” She winked at him, then stepped forward to greet Wynne.

He stared after her. “Nah …”

But he spent the rest of the day wondering.


	2. Chapter 2

Karl knew the apprentices were up to something when he saw them all whispering in the corner of the library. He paid them no mind until he saw Anders stand up and walk towards his table. “Yes?” he asked, when Anders paused next to him.

Anders blinked for a moment, then leaned down and gave Karl what was clearly supposed to be a conspiratorial smile. “So,” he said, “Jowan and I have a bet.”

Karl raised an eyebrow. “What kind of bet?”

Anders’ nose scrunched up for a moment, and his cheeks turned slightly pink. But he soldiered on. “I bet that I could get you to give me a kiss,” he said in a rush.

Karl laughed before he could stop himself. “Oh really? And how did you intend to do that?”

“Um. With my irresistible charm?”

The bright, falsely innocent smile that accompanied the statement made Karl grin and rub his forehead. Kid, you have no idea how true that is. If Anders wasn’t charming, he wouldn’t have survived this long. Especially after the whole swimming incident. 

“So,” Karl asked, “what happens if you lose?”

The smile dimmed, just a bit. “Well,” Anders hedged. After a moment, he shrugged. “I have to take his chore rotation next week. Cleaning the store rooms.” Anders shuddered. Karl sympathized - the store rooms were dusty and dank, no one’s favorite place to spend any time.

“And what happens if he loses?”

“He has to do my Chantry history homework.” A moment later, Anders seemed to realize that confessing a deal for cheating to an instructor was maybe not the best idea, because he flushed red and looked away.

Karl just laughed. “I’ve seen some of Jowan’s work. Are you sure that’s a prize and not a punishment?”

When he looked back, Anders was grinning. “Nah, he’s pretty good at history. He just sucks at healing magic and theory.”

Still chuckling, Karl looked around the room. He and the apprentices were the only ones in this corner of the library. He shook his head. “Okay,” he said, standing up, “tell you what. I’ll promise not to tell anyone your history instructor that you’re cheating if you promise not to tell any of your other instructors that I did this.”

With that, he grabbed Anders’ chin lightly and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. He obviously caught the boy by surprise, because his mouth was still slightly open, and he made a noise that sounded a lot like a muffled “oh!” The whole thing was worth it, though, for the wide-eyed look of shock he got when he stepped back. And for the gasps and mumbles that came from the table full of apprentices across the room.

Karl gathered his books and patted Anders on the shoulder. “Make sure your history homework is properly spelled. I’ve had to correct some of Jowan’s work before.”

Anders was still standing there when he turned to walk out of the room. Karl managed not to start laughing until he was well out of the library.


	3. Chapter 3

She’s the last person Alistair expects to see in Kirkwall. But, then again, Leliana always has had a gift for being exactly where she’s needed at any point in time. During the Blight, he lost count of the number of time he’d been losing in a fight, only to see an arrow fly out of nowhere to pierce his opponent in some sensitive place. “We always did make a good team,” she laughs, when he mentions it.

“You mean you were good at protecting me from myself.”

Leliana pokes him in the shoulder. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re a Fereldan legend now, you know.”

“Maker help me,” Alistair groans. “Is it too late to go back to being a failed Templar?”

“Yes, it is.” She snuggles closer to him, her bare skin hot on his. It’s a scorching summer here in Kirkwall, but Alistair can’t find it in himself to separate their bodies. It’s been too long since he’s been with her - or anyone - like this. “Your Majesty,” Leliana finishes, her voice teasing.

“And what kind of title do you have these days, hmm? Should I be calling you Sister Leliana again?”

“No.” Her smile is full of humor, a joke Alistair knows he hasn’t been let in on. “I’m simply a servant of the Divine.”

Leliana has never been a simple anything, he thinks, but any further comment is cut off by her lips, sweet against his. It’s a distraction, but one he’s willing to play into. It’s not like he’s ever been clever enough to outwit her, anyway. He might as well take what pleasure he’s going to get while he can get it, Alistair thinks.

She tastes like honeyed wine and some kind of spice, like a long-ago memory that’s faded to a story in a book. But for a little while, Alistair remembers what it was like to be something other than a storybook hero.


	4. Chapter 4

“Hawke, I’m sorry, but your dog can’t stay at the Hanged Man.”

She turned on her big, blue, sad-eyed look - Varric hated that one, because he was powerless against it. “We need to find somewhere for her to go. There’s barely enough room at Gamlen’s for all of us and Lady, we’ll never be able to keep Lady and a litter of puppies there.”

“And where do you think they’re all going to stay here? Not in my rooms.”

“Oh, come on,” Carver said, “that’s exactly what you need. A whole pile of puppies to rip up your writing masterpieces and pee on your bed.”

Hawke glared at her brother before looking back at Varric. “There are empty rooms here. Between all of us, I’m sure we could hide her until she has the puppies.”

“And after? I’m not huge into animals, but I’m pretty sure little ones need to be with their mommy for a while.”

“Or we could just train them to drink the ale,” Carver suggested.

“Hey now, Junior, just because I’m not big on animals doesn’t mean I want to poison the poor things.” Varric looked back at Hawke and sighed. “Okay. The room back by Martin’s hasn’t been rented in months. I’ll pay the girls to look the other way for a couple of months.”

Hawke leaned down and kissed him noisily on the cheek. “I love you, Varric. I hope you know that.”

“Yeah, yeah, well …” Varric grinned. “I’m a loveable guy, what can I say?”

They both ignored the retching sound Carver made.


	5. Chapter 5

When they set up camp, Nathaniel made it a point to sit down next to Anders. “You look …” _Like a ghost_. “Unwell.”

“Ah, now there’s the Howe charm I missed so much.” Anders sighed, laying his staff across his lap. “Not all of us live in cushy Keeps any more, you know.”

“It was your choice,” Nathaniel reminded him.

“Yeah, well, I don’t think I would have exactly been welcomed again, after …”

Nathaniel nodded. _After_ , indeed. “It’s a different place now,” he admitted, “with the Commander gone. Weisshaupt keeps sending us experienced Wardens from Orlais and the Marches. None of them last very long.”

“Not too happy about having to live amongst a bunch of stinking dog lords, eh?”

“Not too happy about having to live in the same building as a stinking Oghren, actually.” That drew a laugh from Anders, and Nathaniel gave him a small grin. “But mostly, they all seem to think the Keep is haunted.”

Anders raised an eyebrow. “There are ghosts? Why did no one tell me about the ghosts?”

“Well, our friendly foreign wardens keep finding their belongings moved around their rooms. They hear voices, moaning. I’m told a couple have actually seen an apparition floating down the halls.”

“Is that so? Sounds like fun.”

“Well, the ladies of the Keep certainly think so.” When Anders stared at him, he started chuckling. “Sigrun and Cera, mostly. With help from Velanna when she deigns to rejoin us.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Anders laughed long and loud, drawing curious looks from the rest of their party. “Maker help me, I actually miss all of you sometimes.”

Nathaniel clapped him on the shoulder. “We miss you too, old friend.”

 _Both of you_ , Nathaniel added silently, hoping there was enough of another old friend left inside Anders to understand.


	6. Chapter 6

Nathaniel came back to Amaranthine with two new recruits and a cold that made it feel like there was a golem sitting on his chest. The Commander took one look at him when he got off his horse and pointed towards the keep. “You. Go to bed, I don’t want to see you for at least a day.”

Several hours later, he was huddled underneath his blankets when he heard the door to his quarters open. He turned over to see Cauthrien pulling off her boots. “Heard you came back with the plague.”

He groaned in response. “You might want to find somewhere else to sleep tonight,” he mumbled. “Don’t want to catch it.”

“Luckily, I’ve always been ridiculously healthy. Some of my soldiers used to accuse me of using magic, because I never got any of the bugs that went around camp.”

She stripped off the light armor she wore for sparring; when she was down to her tunic and leggings, she climbed into bed and laid a hand on his forehead. “Sweet Andraste, you’re burning up.”

“Feels like I can’t get warm.”

Sighing, Cauthrien curled up next to him and slipped her arms around him. “Go back to sleep.”

He drifted off again, the warmth of her body finally lulling him into a restful sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Varric usually prided himself on knowing everything. This, however, was like being smacked in the face with a broadsword.

“Aveline, what is this?”

“I thought you were above such obvious questions.” Aveline sat behind her desk, watching Varric with amusement in her eyes. “It’s the deed to the Hanged Man, in your name.”

“But … wait a minute, I would have heard if someone had bought it.”

“No one bought it. It was repossessed by the Viscount - which is what happens when a business owner forgets to pay his taxes for years at a time.” Aveline shrugged. “Bran came to me to see if I had any ideas about what to do with it - because Maker forbid that place ever shut down.”

“The streets of Lowtown would be destroyed in the ensuing riot,” Varric agreed. “But …” He waved the paper in the air. “This?”

“It needed an owner.” Aveline grinned. “Consider it a wedding present.”

“But you’re the one getting married.”

“And if you’re occupied with the Hanged Man, perhaps I won’t see any fanciful imagining of my wedding night being passed around the barracks when we come back from the honeymoon.”

“Ah.” Now _that_ Varric understood. “A bribe.”

“A present,” Aveline corrected.

“Present accepted.” He bowed. “Thank you, Guard Captain. I am in your debt.”

He nearly made it out the door before his tongue got the better of him. “Can I at least write something that fades to black when it gets to the good parts?”

“Out. Before I change my mind and rip that thing up.”

“You’d have to catch me first.”

Varric ducked out of the room and was up the stairs before he could see if Aveline got up from her chair. She was probably kidding but … hey, better safe than sorry.


	8. Chapter 8

She hadn’t meant to get that close to the edge of the walkway. Merrill really just wanted to know how far down the tower went. The only answer she got was “really far down” before she teetered and felt herself tipping forward …

… and suddenly a pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist and hauled her back. “Whoa,” she heard Carver say. “Careful. You okay?”

Merrill leaned back into him - her heart was racing, and she didn’t yet trust herself on her feet. “Fine. I’m fine. Just a little … thanks.”

“No problem.”

His chest was broad; Merrill felt like she was engulfed in his arms. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation. Had he always been this … big? She’d spent a lot of time over the years contemplating Hawke’s chest, and arms, and … well, all the other bits Isabela gleefully told her about, but she hadn’t really given that much thought to Carver. He was gone with the Wardens, after all, and she’d only seen him briefly since the Deep Roads.

Clearly, though, if the arms currently enfolding her were any indication, Carver could rival his older brother in size and strength. Merrill felt a curious shiver run down her spine. Carver obviously felt it, as well, because his arms tightened just a bit. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Oh, yes. Totally fine.” Merrill stepped out of his arms with more reluctance than she expected. She turned to face him with a bright smile. “Just clumsy, I guess.”

He smiled back. He had dimples. Why hadn’t she noticed he had dimples before? “Nah,” he said, “this place is just crazy. You could turn a corner and walk off a cliff.”

“That’s a comforting thought. I sometimes have trouble not walking into walls, I think I’d be a goner if I walked off a cliff.”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry,” he assured her, “I’ll stay behind you and catch you if you fall.”

Really, that didn’t sound like a bad deal to Merrill at all.


	9. Chapter 9

If there was one thing Nathaniel hadn’t missed during his years away, it was the Ferelden winter. Especially when experienced inland. While camping. 

He huddled inside the tent while the wind howled outside. At least the tent was sturdy enough to keep the wind at bay - at least until Anders opened the flap and hurled himself inside. “Andraste’s tits,” the mage muttered. “Sometimes I actually miss the relative warmth of the Circle Tower.”

“Enough to turn yourself in?” Nathaniel asked.

Anders scowled. “I’d rather turn into an icicle.”

“I’m sure that could be arranged tonight.”

“Oh no, my friend,” Anders replied, suddenly cheerful again. “Not when you’re blessed with certain talents.” A moment later, a flame danced in his open palm. He grinned, then quickly extinguished the fire, wincing. “As long as I don’t burn myself to death,” he amended.

“And me along with you.” Nathaniel rolled his eyes. “Perhaps we should skip the fire inside the tent.”

“Then how would you suggest we keep the whole icicle fate at bay?” His eyes widened, and he grinned at Nathaniel. “Huddling for warmth?”

“That’s actually what I was thinking.” 

The look of shock on Anders’ face had Nathaniel’s mouth twitching. But, he suppressed the smile as he gestured to their sleeping rolls, which he’d already put down next to each other. “We might as well,” he continued, “as body heat is far less likely to get us both killed.”

“Huh,” Anders said. “I never figured …”

“Never figured what?”

“Never mind.” Anders shook his head. “Huddling for warmth. I’m in.”

After a few awkward minutes of moving around, they ended up laying together, Anders’ back pressed to Nathaniel’s chest. Nathaniel closed his eyes and tried to will himself to sleep. He’d just started to succeed when Anders pressed farther into him and found … something he obviously didn’t expect. “Nathaniel!”

“Hmmm?”

“You’re …”

“What?”

“Hard!”

Nathaniel grinned at the back of Anders’ head. “Mmm hmm.”

“But you’re …”

“Aroused?”

“Yes!” Anders was silent for a moment. Nathaniel noticed that he hadn’t pulled away; in fact, he seemed to be pressing even closer. Nathaniel slung an arm over Anders’ chest. “By me?” Anders finally asked.

“Is there someone else here?”

“Ha ha.” Anders turned his head to look over his shoulder. “Does that mean you want to …”

“Not right now. I don’t intend to remove any clothing tonight.”

“Good point. So I guess we just both go to sleep unfulfilled then?”

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. “Both?”

“You could reach down and find out, you know.”

“Are you really anxious to sleep in sticky smalls?”

“Another good point. Damn you.” Anders turned away and pressed his face into the pillow. “When we get back …” he said, his voice muffled.

“I will be much more likely to remove my clothing.”

“Fantastic.”

They fell silent. Somehow, Nathaniel was no longer cold in the least.


	10. Chapter 10

(for a prompt about DA companions as the Avengers.)

Aveline turns, ready to toss her shield at whoever is bearing down on her - but, luckily, the only thing descending to the ground is a familiar red suit. “Easy, big girl.” She hears Isabela’s voice more through the monitor in her ear than aloud, in the screaming chaos that surrounds them. “Looks like a picnic down here.”

Aveline turns; bodies, both human and otherwise, litter the ground around her. “Oh yeah,” she says, “it’s been a regular party.”

“Duck!”

She’s been a soldier long enough to obey that sort of order without thinking. Aveline crouches, just before she feels a blast of heat fly over her head. When she turns her head, a body - not human, she can only assume - is burning several feet away. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” Aveline looks back at Isabela, who is grinning behind the mask - she just knows it, even without seeing her face. “You move pretty quick for an old lady.”

Isabela blasts off again before Aveline can form a proper retort. But then, the screams get louder again, and the time for mutual insults is over.


	11. Chapter 11

“You’re sure this is going to work?”

“No,” Bethany admits, “but it’s worth a shot. As long as you’re okay with losing that sword.”

“I hate longswords. And we took it off a darkspawn anyway.” 

Bethany watches as Sigrun crawls up the narrow ledge to the elaborate metalwork that decorates the low ceiling of this abandoned thaig. She feels a bit bad about possibly ruining the art - which has probably been here for hundreds of years - but if it’s a choice between the art and their lives, well … 

Sigrun hangs the sword from the lowest hanging metal swoop, and tumbles to the ground with a grace that makes Bethany jealous, every time. “I wish I could do that.”

“I keep offering to teach you.”

“I’m afraid of breaking my neck.”

“If I teach you, you wouldn’t break your neck.”

The old, comfortable argument is interrupted by a tingling that Bethany knows Sigrun feels, too. “Come on.” They duck behind a nearby rock formation and wait. 

A minute later, Bethany hears the familiar grunting and shuffling of the hoarde of darkspawn - this group has been pursuing them all day, and they’ve only managed to pick off one or two of them so far. Which is why she suggested this; she read something like this in one of the books the Commander brought back from Kinloch Hold for her, but she’s never had the chance to put it into practice. It will work … theoretically. “Here goes nothing,” she mutters, and leans out of cover just enough to shoot a bolt of lightning at the hanging sword.

The metalwork sparks and smokes, and about half the darkspawn fall as the lightning jumps and spits in all directions. Sigrun lets out a whoop of joy and vaults over the rock, daggers in hand. 

Bethany manages a grin, as she throws a fireball at two of the remaining darkspawn. She’ll have to remember to tell the Commander about this one.


	12. Chapter 12

When she was free, she’d been a terrible artist. Carver used to joke that she couldn’t even draw a straight line. But here in the Gallows, a person has a lot of free time, and not that much to do. So Bethany is teaching herself how to draw. Because … well, why not? 

She tells herself that she’s chosen her current subject because he happens to be standing in her line of sight. Never mind the fact that she could have chosen any seat in the nearly-empty library. She just … likes facing the door, all right? And her table is well away from the group near the back of the room, a gaggle of young students listening to an older enchanter drone on about some theory or another. It’s a quiet spot, with just a hint of breeze coming in from the window high on the wall.

… and her position has absolutely nothing to do with wanting to look at the Knight-Captain. Not at all.

Bethany looks down at her sketch. Which, she admits, looks pretty much nothing like the subject. “At least it looks like a face this time,” she mutters to herself.

Cullen turns toward her. “Did you say something?” 

“No.” Bethany blushes, automatically putting a hand over her paper. Not that he can see it from all the way over by the door, but still. “Sorry, just talking to myself.”

The way his jaw twitches - not quite a grin, but something that seems just a bit friendlier than his usual expression - Bethany wishes she could capture it on paper. She’d like to see it more often.


	13. Chapter 13

Bethany doesn’t want to cling. Doesn’t want to feel like she needs to. She’s always known that Alistair’s assignment to Ansburg was temporary - but it hasn’t felt real until just now, laying with her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat underneath her ear for what may be the last time. She turns her face and murmurs words into his skin. “Hmmm?” he asks, stroking her hair. “What was that?”

“Nothing.” Don’t go. She needed to say it, needed to get it out before it exploded from her chest. But it wouldn’t be fair to say aloud. Even if he wanted to stay, neither one of them has the luxury of choosing their own path. 

Alistair tugs on her arm until she scoots up far enough for him to kiss her. Every kiss reminds her of that first one - standing outside the Ansburg tavern the Wardens favored, both of them slightly drunk and made bolder because of it. She’d giggled into his mouth when he touched his tongue to hers. “You make that horrible wine taste so much better,” he told her, his breath hot against her cheek. His kisses make her feel like some kind of rare vintage, something to be savored - like she’s special, and no one else in the world would ever taste like her.

When Bethany pulls back, Alistair frames her face with his hands. She thinks she feels his breath hitch - but maybe that’s just her own, as the lump in her throat is threatening to suffocate her. His voice is rough, though, when he strokes her cheek with his thumb and says, “Bethany, I …” He cuts himself off and simply stares, his eyes searching her face as if memorizing every angle.

When he rolls her over and slips inside her again, Bethany digs her fingers into the slick skin of his shoulders and lets herself forget. Just for a little while longer.


	14. Chapter 14

Living at Vigil’s Keep is rather like living with her brothers, multiplied by a hundred. Bethany’s not too bothered by the ridiculous and the disgusting, but the newest recruit appears to be totally unprepared for the realities of living with a large group of men. “How did she end up a Warden, anyway?” Bethany asks, collapsing into a chair after dinner.

Sigrun, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a book in her lap, shrugs. “Woolsey told me that she’s the daughter of a minor noble from West Hill. Didn’t want to marry the guy her family betrothed her to, so she decided that joining the Wardens was a good way to escape. I don’t think she did her research.”

“Apparently not. Did you see her face when Oghren belched?”

“Which time?”

“The loud one.”

“You really need to be more specific.” 

“The one that echoed so loudly that the cook came out of the kitchen to see what had fallen off the table.”

Sigrun laughs. “No, I guess I’d left the table by then.”

“And,” Bethany continues, “you weren’t out with us the other day. The poor thing didn’t get more than a couple of hours sleep in three days, because apparently she can’t settle when Nathaniel is snoring.”

“I can’t blame her too much for that one. How in the void do you do it night after night?”

“My father taught me a minor noise reduction spell when I was little. It helped me sleep in the same room as my twin brother.” 

“Me, I just take ear plugs with me when we head out on the road.” Sigrun closes her book. “I should go give her a pair.”

“She went back to the barracks after dinner, I think.” Suddenly, Bethany stands up. “Come on. Let’s go liberate a bottle of wine from Varel’s cabinet and take her out onto the battlements.”

“You mean like I did the first week you ended up here?” Sigrun grins at Bethany. “Sounds like a plan. We girls have to stick together, after all.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Avengers crossover - Sigrun and Tony Stark - for a Tumblr prompt. :)

The woman in his lab says she’s another SHIELD assassin. “How come I’ve never met you before?” Tony asks.

“What, you think you know all of SHIELD? Just because you know Fury and Barton and Romanoff?” She snorts. “Some of us are still out here doing the real work while the rest of you play superhero.” 

“Aren’t you a little short for a super-assassin?”

“Ha ha. That’s totally the first time I’ve heard that one.” The woman hoists herself up onto the workbench, letting her legs swing like a little kid as she watches Tony from across the room. “By the way, you’re welcome.”

“What am I thanking you for?”

“There was a hit order out on your girl.” She holds up a hand when Tony’s head snaps up. “‘Was’, I said. They’re all dead now. So you’re welcome.”

“Someone ordered a hit on Pepper,” Tony says slowly. The woman nods. “And you didn’t leave any of them for me?”

“Well, there might be one or two in a cell over at SHIELD headquarters, if you felt like making a field trip.” She smiles. It’s a surprisingly cheerful expression. “I’m sure the guards could even be persuaded to take a coffee break, if you ask nicely.”

“I’m the nicest guy on the planet, trust me.” Tony turns around to put his tools away. “Hey,” he says, “what’s your name?”

When he turns back around, though, the woman is gone. Tony grins at the empty room. “Hey, JARVIS, I’m going out. While I’m gone, could you access SHIELD’s database and figure out who my visitor was? I’d like to buy her a drink sometime.”


	16. Chapter 16

The Gallows is quiet, after. There used to be a constant hum of background noise - quiet conversations, the clink of swords from the Templar training ground, an occasional shout that would send most mages scurrying back to their rooms to avoid whatever punishment was about to be meted out. But after Meredith, and the Chantry, and everything else, the whole place seems more like a tomb than anything else.

Bethany hates it.

Cullen’s quarters are in a mostly-deserted area - most of the higher-ranking Templars who bunked near him were killed attempting to carry out Meredith’s last orders. So, at night, Bethany lets her voice loose. Her cries echo off the stone walls when he enters her; she begs him to go faster, harder, wreck her, make her soar … _make me forget_ , though those words never pass her lips. He understands, all the same. She’s sure of it.

She revels in the sound of skin slapping against skin, the creaking of the mattress underneath her body. The way the ancient bed frame slams against the stone wall, the crashing noise it creates that Bethany thinks might be audible all the way out to the courtyard. The way Cullen mutters the words he’ll never say aloud when he’s about to let go.

Afterward, their labored breath is all she can hear. Occasionally, Cullen will whisper her name against her sweat-damp hair. It’s the most beautiful sound she’s ever heard.


	17. Chapter 17

She didn't meet the cat until she spent her first night in Nathaniel's room. "Who is this?" she asked, when the orange tabby came out from under the dresser and jumped up on the bed. 

Nathaniel sighed. "That's Ser Pounce-a-lot. Who was named by a friend, I'll have you know."

It took a moment for Bethany to remember. When the cat had settled itself next to Bethany, purring and kneading the blankets next to her, she suddenly heard Anders' voice. _"The bastards made me get rid of my cat."_ She stroked the cat's head. "Where did he come from?"

"A Warden who used to live here adopted him. When he had to leave, I took him in." Nathaniel chuckled. "Or, possibly, he took me on. He wanders the grounds more often than not, but somehow he always ends back up in my room, even if the doors and windows are closed." 

The cat looked up at her. For a moment, he almost looked like he knew something; Bethany leaned over to kiss his head, and whispered, "He's okay, but he misses you."

"What did you say?"

"Nothing." She turned back to Nathaniel and kissed him lightly. "I like cats."

"Good. Maybe I can use him to entice you to stay with me."

Bethany laughed. "I wasn't planning to go anywhere anytime soon."

She fell asleep with Nathaniel curled around one side of her, and the cat curled up against the other. As she drifted off, she hoped Anders was half as content as she was.


	18. Chapter 18

She'd seen a lot of terrible things recently – Howe's massacre, Redcliffe, and more darkspawn than she'd ever expected to see in her lifetime – but somehow, the Deep Roads scared Lilah more than anything. Maybe it was being so far underground, maybe it was the waves and waves of darkspawn and spiders and creatures that never seemed to end. She started to lose track of time – maybe she'd be down here forever, searching for a dwarf who was likely dead.

At camp, she curled up into her bedroll and tried to stop shivering. It was always cold down here, especially without her armor. She should really be wearing her armor, she knew, but it was dirty and gross and oh, Maker, she'd give anything to be clean. And to see the sunlight. 

"Are you okay?" Lilah turned over to find Alistair sitting on his own bedroll, staring at her. He'd stripped down to his undershirt and trousers, obviously ready for sleep. "You're shaking."

"Cold." She wouldn't admit to being scared. Not now. He was counting on her – they all were. Alistair and Wynne and even Oghren, who sat not too far from them, cleaning his sword while he stood watch. She was supposed to lead them to Branka, lead them back to Orzammar to crown a king. 

How had this fallen on her shoulders? How had her life gone so awry? Being a Warden had sounded so romantic when Duncan spoke of it – Maker, that seemed like a lifetime ago. 

Alistair stared at her for a few more moments, then stood up. He tugged his bedroll over until it was right next to Lilah's. When she looked up at him, he blushed. "Well. Body heat. Maybe it'll make you feel warmer."

She gave him what was probably a shaky smile. "Yeah. Thanks." 

When he laid down, Lilah scooted over until she could rest her head on his chest. She felt him start, and heard his heart beat quicken. But his arms came up around her, and she snuggled closer. It wasn't much, but it allowed her to escape her fears in the oblivion of sleep.


	19. Chapter 19

"Isabela, I can't."

"Of course you can. It's my ship. We're running away. How else are we going to run anywhere?"

"You don't understand." Marian sighed. "I get seasick. Really seasick. I felt like puking every time we had to take the ferry to the Gallows. The trip from Gwaren to Kirkwall was a nightmare – I was sick the whole way. The ocean and I don't agree with each other."

"It's not the ocean that doesn't agree with you, it's your modes of transportation." Isabela put her hands on her hips. "That little dinghy at the Gallows was a piece of shit. And I'll bet you sat in a hold when you were coming to Kirkwall, am I right? Down in the bowels of the ship, rarely saw the sun?" When Marian nodded, Isabela slung an arm around her shoulders. "This will be different. You'll have sunshine and fresh air, and a ship's captain who knows what's she's doing."

"I'm talking about the ship, not the bedroom." 

Isabela laughed and tickled Marian in her side. Marian gasped and pulled away. "Listen, just trust me on this," Isabela said. "Give me from Kirkwall to Cumberland. If it's miserable, we'll figure something else out."

Marian nodded. Isabela grinned. "Okay, board the thrice-damned ship already, my crew is waiting for me."

 

A week later, Isabela found Marian at the prow of the ship. The wind whipped her short, dark hair around her face, but she had a smile that rivaled the sun when she saw Isabela approaching. "You were right."

"I'm always right. Except when I'm wrong." Isabela put her arms around Marian and pressed against her back. "What am I right about?"

"Your ship. The sea. It's wonderful."

"Told you." She kissed Marian's neck. "You just needed the right captain."

"I did, indeed." She tugged away from Isabela and grabbed her hand. “Now come on, Captain, take me below and show me your skills.”

Isabela laughed and allowed herself to be dragged along. “Again?”

“Again.”

There weren’t many reasons Isabela would abandon the sunlight and sea spray on a beautiful day. But Marian Hawke figured in most of them.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU, in which both Hawke twins survived the trip to Kirkwall.

Bethany didn't see Carver until several weeks after her Harrowing. She was allowed out into the back courtyard for a walk; the Templar recruits were being drilled on the opposite end of the yard, so she stayed as far away as she could from the activity.  
Until she heard the Templar lieutenant shout, "Get up, Hawke, we're not taking naps here."

She could almost pretend she imagined it, if only the next voice hadn't been as familiar as her own. "Yes sir. Sorry sir."

Bethany fled inside the Gallows. She couldn't think of anything else to do, other than cause a scene in front of a dozen recruits and a Templar. When she got back to her room, she was shaking so hard that she dropped the glass of water she tried to pick up. "Damn him," she said, collapsing onto the bed. "What in Andraste's name is he doing here?"

*

"Looking after you."

"What?" Bethany poked her twin in the chest – or, what would be his chest, if the massive Templar armor wasn't in the way. "Carver, you're a TEMPLAR."

"How else was I supposed to get in here? Beth," he said, pulling them both farther into the corner of the library, "I heard the stories about the Circle just as often as you did. I couldn't let you come here alone."

"I'm fine. I'm going to be fine. You're supposed to be out there, living a normal life with mom and Garrett! That was the whole point!" Bethany clapped her hand over her mouth. That wasn't something she'd meant to admit.

Carver's eyes narrowed. "I knew it. I knew you turned yourself in."

"I didn't really turn myself in as … well, let myself be noticed." Bethany scrubbed a hand over her face. "I didn't want to ruin your lives anymore," she whispered from behind her hands.

Carver was silent for a long moment. "You idiot," he finally said, not unkindly. He pulled her hands away from her face and held them in his. "You're stuck with me. Always have been. So just deal with it."

She didn't admit it aloud, but just the feeling of her twin's fingers twining around hers gave Bethany a strength she didn't know she'd needed.


	21. Chapter 21

Velanna didn’t speak to Bethany much. Not when Bethany first arrived in Amaranthine, anyway. It wasn’t until they were sent out on a scouting mission alone that Velanna said more than three words at a time. “Where do you come from, anyway?” Velanna asked. “Some Circle or another?”

“No. I was an apostate.”

“Huh. I didn’t think the humans allowed that.”

“They don’t. My family was just good at hiding.”

That earned Bethany a small smile. “Good for you. Humans are so dumb about magic, honestly.”

“How did you learn your magic?” 

“I was going to be a Keeper. You know, before …” Velanna waved her hands around the campsite. 

“Oh. I knew someone else who was going to be a Dalish Keeper. She ended up leaving her clan, too. Is it very hard, to studying to be a Keeper?”

“No harder than anything else, I don’t think. It just … wasn’t for me, I guess. I’m not the wise woman type.” Velanna snorted. “Though, to be fair, I wasn’t always sure our Keeper was all that wise.”

“I’ve only met one Keeper. She seemed pretty wise, I guess.”

“You met a Keeper?” Velanna raised an eyebrow. “You’re doing better than most humans. What clan did you meet?”

“I’m not sure of the name of the clan … I don’t know a lot about things like that.” 

“Wanna learn?”

“What?”

“Nobody else around this place seems that interested in knowing anything about the Dalish. Mostly it’s just jokes about living in the woods.” Velanna made a rude gesture. “What about you?”

“Oh, no, I’d love to know more! I wasn’t ever that friendly with Merrill - the other Dalish elf I knew - so I never got a chance to learn very much.” Bethany smiled. “But if you’re willing …”

“Sure, why not?” Velanna shrugged. “But don’t tell those idiots back at the Keep, okay?”

Bethany thought about asking why, but shut her mouth instead. She didn’t want to discourage this sudden bout of friendship. She had too few actual friends in the Wardens to scare one off. So, she just smiled. “Deal. I’m all ears.”


	22. Chapter 22

Marian, Varric, Anders, and Merrill had been in the Deep Roads for over a month - a month of worry for her, thought Bethany. Worry that her sister would die, but more, worry that her best shield against the Templars was gone. Bethany felt naked, exposed. She darted away from every Templar that walked through Lowtown, and avoided Hightown entirely. “It’s madness,” she told Isabela, sitting on the edge of the pirate’s bed in her room at the Hanged Man. “I can’t live like this.”

“You shouldn’t have to, sweetheart.” Isabela put a hand over hers. “It’s an awful situation.”

Aveline, hovering in the doorway, sighed. “Are you sure about this?”

“No, I’m not.” Bethany wrapped her arms around herself, shuddering. “I’m terrified. But if Marian doesn’t come back …”

“She’ll come back,” Isabela said. “She’s the toughest woman I know. Aside from me, of course.”

“Your sister is too stubborn to die,” Aveline agreed.

“But what if she doesn’t? Mother and I still won’t have any money, and I can’t keep ducking my head and praying every time I see Templar armor. I don’t know that I have a choice.”

“You always have a choice,” Aveline said. “It’s just that some choices are better for you than others.”

“I don’t like it,” Isabela said, frowning. “But if you really think it’s best, I’m behind you.”

“I just don’t know. It might be nice, to just get the inevitable over …” Bethany sighed. “But I’m terrified.”

“You don’t have to decide today,” Aveline reminded her.

But her time was quickly running out, Bethany knew. Alone, without a Marian-shaped shield, it was only a matter of time before someone noticed her. Would it be better to turn herself in? She just didn’t know.

Isabela drew her into a one-armed embrace, while Aveline looked on, sympathy obvious in her eyes. For a moment, Bethany let herself be comforted by her friends. After all, she thought, it might be one of the last times she got to enjoy their company.


	23. Chapter 23

“Did they hurt, kitten?” 

“Did what hurt?”

Isabela tapped a finger on Merrill’s nose, then traced a fingertip across the tattoos that decorated her cheek. “These. When did you get them?”

“Oh, I was young. The vallaslin are given when a Dalish comes of age - it’s a very important ritual.”

“Some of my people wear tattoos on their face, but it’s more of a fashion statement than anything.” Isabela continued to trace the lines of Merrill’s tattoo, grinning when the other woman giggled. “But I never wanted one, because it always seemed like it would hurt like a demon.”

“Oh, yes. But you can’t cry out. If you make even a bit of sound, it means you’re not ready to become an adult member of the clan. I had to bite down on a piece of wood to keep from screaming. Especially right here,” Merrill said, grasping Isabela’s hand and guiding it to the markings between her eyes.

Isabela’s finger lingered for a moment, before she bent over and kissed Merrill gently on her forehead. Merrill’s giggles returned. “Poor girl,” Isabela said. “Did they at least let you get drunk afterwards?”

“There’s a fantastic celebration after someone gets their vallaslin. I woke up the next morning in someone else’s bed.”

“Good for you!” Isabela kissed her again, this time on the tip of her nose. “I knew you had it in you.”

“You have no idea what I have in me, Isabela.”

Merrill sounded uncharacteristically serious. Her eyes were focused on Isabela’s. “Are you going to show me?” Isabela asked softly.

“If you want.”

“Kitten, all you ever had to do was ask.”

Isabela’s next kiss was even lower. And far more enjoyable.


	24. Chapter 24

It was, surprisingly, Velanna who initiated it the first time; one night, at camp, Arradeth woke from a terrible nightmare to feel a hand on her shoulder. “You all right?” Velanna asked softly.

“Do you get the nightmares?” Arradeth asked, turning over to face Velanna.

“Yeah. Thanks, by the way, for warning me on that one.” 

Arradeth’s nightmares were not just of the Warden variety. She was sure Velanna didn’t smell the archdemon, or hear Alistair’s lifeless body crash into the ground in front of her. But, she didn’t know what other nightmares lingered in Velanna’s mind, so she couldn’t really judge her own to be any worse. “Sorry,” she said. “Would it have made a difference?”

“Probably not. But at least I would have expected the sleepless nights.” Velanna watched Arradeth for a moment. She knew she must look a fright - she was shivering, from the nightmare or the cool night air, she didn’t know. Probably both. “Do you want company?” Velanna suddenly blurted. Even in the dark, Arradeth could tell she was blushing.

“What?”

“Not like … well, you know. But back when we were younger, Seranni and I used to sleep in the same bedroll when one of us had nightmares. It helped.”

Arradeth wasn’t sure if Velanna was volunteering to help her, or her own self - after all, Velanna was sitting here awake at an hour when most of their fellow Wardens were snoring. Perhaps Arradeth wasn’t the only one being plagued by demons. 

And, if she was honest, she missed the feel of Leliana’s warmth curled at her back. Arradeth swallowed a lump in her throat. “Sure,” she said, opening her blankets. “Thank you.”

With Velanna pressed against her side, Arradeth fell into a blessedly dreamless sleep.


	25. Chapter 25

Wesley and Donnic were two very different men. It was evident, Aveline thought, in the way they kissed.

Wesley’s kisses had always been sweet, tender. A little awkward at first - they’d been each other’s first, in just about everything, and it took a while for them to figure out where noses and hands properly went during the whole proceeding. But it had been fun, she remembered, nervous laughter turning into genuine enjoyment. And as Wesley learned how to do the sorts of things that made Aveline swoon, he went about them with the same dedication as he brought to his higher calling. 

Donnic - well, she wasn’t near his first in anything. And that was more than okay. Donnic had the confidence that Wesley sometimes lacked; his kisses were firm, his tongue dancing between Aveline’s lips before she had a chance to catch her breath. Sometimes, his confidence was harder to take - early encounters turned into something like wrestling matches, as Aveline tried to guide him in a direction that pleased her. It took a while, to match their rhythms. But Aveline had to admit, she rather liked being with someone who could sweep her away like Donnic did. Sometimes, it was nice to give up control and let him steer their passion in his own way.

“So,” Isabela asked once, over drinks in the Hanged Man, “does Donnic measure up to Ser Templar? You know, in the important ways?” 

Aveline ignored the eyebrow waggle that accompanied the question. “There is no ‘measuring up,’” she answered. “It’s like comparing apples and oranges.”

“Oh, you’re no fun. Unless you’d like to elaborate on the differences.”

“Not in this lifetime.” But Aveline smiled to herself. She was lucky, to have had the love - and the passion - of two such men. “Those details belong to me.”


	26. Chapter 26

She visits the Commander every once in a while, a lovely redhead with a smile that stirs Nathaniel’s blood. He wonders about her relationship with the Commander - Elissa is married, sure, but he’s also known her long enough to know that fidelity may not be at the top of her priority list. Perhaps she and the King have an understanding of some sort. If that’s the case, Nathaniel can’t help but be jealous - of both women, he admits to himself. 

One day, though, he finds Leliana in the Keep’s sitting room, her travel pack at her feet. “My lady,” he says, giving a shallow bow.

“Nathaniel,” she acknowledges him, with that smile that seems to hint at a dozen different secrets. “My usual room is apparently in use by an Orlesian Warden, so I’m waiting for the housekeeper to find me another.”

“Your room?” Nathaniel raises an eyebrow. Before he can think better of it, he continues, “I thought you stayed …” His mouth clamps shut, and he looks away.

Leliana laughs. “With Elissa? No, I don’t think Alistair would care too much for that.” 

“Ah. I’ve only met the King briefly, so I wouldn’t know.”

“He’s an old fashioned sort. It’s one of his many charms.” She pats the seat next to her. “Come, sit down, if you have a moment.”

For her, he’d take a hundred moments. He sits down, close enough to her that he can feel the warmth of her body next to his. “What brings you to Amaranthine this time?”

“I’m leaving for Orlais next week, and I may not be back in Ferelden for a long while. I wanted to say goodbye to Elissa. And everyone else here.” 

“We’ll miss you.”

“And I, you. But there’s a story that needs telling in Val Royeax.” Her expression is thoughtful, but she doesn’t elaborate. Then, Leliana looks away - is that a blush staining her cheeks? It’s not anything Nathaniel has seen from her before. “I wonder …” she begins, then trails off.

“What?”

She’s silent for a long moment. “It’s been a while,” she says, looking back at him, “since I’ve invited myself to a man’s bed. I wonder if I’ve lost the right words.”

Nathaniel blinks. The half smile on her face leaves no doubt as to whose bed she’s referring to. A smile spreads across his face, and he leans over to press a light kiss to Leliana’s mouth. She giggles, her breath fanning across his face. “I think you’ve got the words you need,” he murmurs.

“Good.” She pokes him lightly in the chest. “Because there’s a story here I haven’t yet learned the ending of.”

“I’m not much for endings. Beginnings, however …”

“A beginning, then.” Leliana captures his lips for a more thorough kiss, one that tangles their tongues and steals Nathaniel’s breath. “I’m very fond of a good beginning.”


End file.
